The Ballet Girl
by I SingOnly4MyAngel
Summary: The story of The Phantom of the Opera expanded, seen through the eyes of Sarah Abbot, Madame Giry's goddaughter. Erik/Madame Giry shipping mainly, so Christine/Raoul is what we end up with.


Prologue

Sarah was the daughter of Madame Giry's childhood friend, Julia Abbot. Julia had come to the Opera Populaire with her aunt and uncle when she and Madame Giry were only twelve years old. Madame Giry was a dancer in the corps de ballet, and when Julia and her aunt and uncle went backstage after the performance, the two friends met for the first time. Julia then declared that she wanted to be a ballerina, so her family sent her to live at the Opera Populaire. Julia quickly proved her natural talent in ballet.

Julia and Madame Giry became like sisters to each other. When they each were married and had children both woman named the other their child's godmother. Then Madame Giry's husband's true personality became known and Julia's husband passed away. When her daughter was seven, Julia passed away as well. Our story begins when Sarah Abbot is thirteen years old.

Chapter One

She stood on the front steps of the Opera Populaire looking up at the magnificent building. She had only two bags, both of which looked slightly worn. Her dress was a simple white, short-sleeved frock with a light blue sash tied below her bust. She wore a dark blue cloak, but had left the hood down so that it exposed her curly golden hair that was pulled back and up so that her curls just touched the nape of her neck. Finally getting up the courage, she walked through the large front doors and into the lobby.

The sight of the lobby took her breath away. She faced the grand staircase with its marble steps. All around her were brilliantly gold statues of half dressed women holding candelabras. The pillars were also made of marble and the whole space seemed to glitter. There was no one else around, but she heard voices coming from the auditorium at the top of the stairs. She had hardly placed her foot on the first stair when two gentlemen walked through the front entrance, each smoking a cigar.

"Poligny, I'm quite fed up with this 'Opera Ghost' business. I think we should-"

Here his companion interrupted him by saying, "Well, what have we got here?"

He began walking towards Sarah, who immediately stepped off the staircase and curtseyed saying, "Monsieur."

"May we assist you in any way mademoiselle?" he asked.

"_Oui,_ Monsieur. I am looking for a woman named Madame Giry. I understand that she is the ballet mistress."

Poligny noted that her French was excellent, though not quite perfect, and she spoke with an English accent.

"Would you like us to take you to her?" asked the other gentleman.

"If it is no trouble Monsieur," she replied.

"Very well. The ballet rehearses at eleven, so she should be in her office."

The taller gentleman picked up her bags and the shorter one, Poligny, offered her his arm. She took it and the three of them began to ascend the staircase.

As she walked down the corridor on Monsieur Poligny's arm, Sarah could hear a woman yelling at someone in French. Although Sarah was not quite fluent in the language, she understood most of what the woman said, or, rather, screamed.

"I will _not_ have you telling your idiotic fantasies to my girls!" the woman yelled. The man who responded sounded frightened and also slightly drunk.

"Please ma'am, I didn't mean no 'arm in it."

"Does it appear to you as though I care if you meant any harm in it?"

"No ma'am, but I was jus' trying to entertain-"

"Your entertainment is coarse and inappropriate! You should be careful spreading such lies, lest _you_ should suffer death by his 'Magical Lasso'."

She said the last two words with such venomous sarcasm that it took Sarah by surprise. Debienne and Poligny looked at each other with eyebrows raised. The three had stopped outside the door to the office, not daring to go inside. They now had a clear view of the two people in the office. The woman wore a black dress and a shawl draped around her shoulders. Her copper hair was braided, but the braid was wrapped around her head like a crown and then formed a low bun before coming down over her left shoulder. The man was a bit red in the face, wore fairly plain clothing, and his shoulder-length hair was dirty and unbrushed.

"Please ma'am, I weren't tryin' to cause no trouble by it-" pleaded the man.

"Out, Buquet. Out,_ Out_!" And with that, the man scurried from the room, bumping against the taller man carrying Sarah's bags.

"Very sorry, beggin' your pardon, Monsieur Debienne. I wouldn't go in there jus' now, she's in quite a rage."

The man then trotted down the hall, obviously anxious to get away. The two men and Sarah then looked into the room again. The woman was now seated behind the desk flipping through piles of paper on her desk.

The men looked at each other, nodded, and stepped into the room. Debienne spoke up and said, "Madame Giry-" But he let the words hang in the air as she looked up sharply.

"What? If one of the ballet girls isn't dying, or if the Opera Ghost hasn't caused a major problem, then I don't want to hear-" She stopped mid-sentence. Her brilliantly blue eyes locked on Sarah, her expression changed quickly into one of shock. She let out an audible gasp and brought a long-fingered hand up to cover her open mouth. Poligny gently nudged Sarah forward and she stepped out into the middle of the room.

"Madame," she said as she swept a curtsy. "My aunt told me that you would be expecting me," she continued. Madame Giry took a deep breath and tried to collect herself.

"Oh, God. Of course. You're Sarah Abbot. I apologise. I've had a rather difficult day. I see that you have met our managers," she said with a gesture towards the men standing just inside the doorway.

"_Oui,_ I have," replied Sarah.

"Good. Now, we must get you settled. I shall have Meg show you about later. But you must be tired. For now I will take you to the dormitory."

She stood, walked to the door and Sarah followed her. Madame Giry stopped at the door and turned back to the two men, saying, "Do see that her bags get to the dormitory."

Sarah was left to follow her down the hall, slightly awestruck at how much power this ballet mistress held over men who were supposed to have all the power in the world over _her_.

The girls' ballet dormitory room had multiple beds, all made, though some not so neatly, lined up in rows on either side of the room. There were no candles lit yet, for it was still early in the day. There were eight gaslights, four on each wall. On the floor lay assorted clutter, such as hair ribbons, clothing items, and pointe shoes. Madame gave a sigh and a shake of the head as she picked up a ballet costume off the floor and laid it on the bed next to it. At the far end of the room was a large window that took up most of the wall. The deep red curtains were pulled to each side of the window so that sunlight streamed into the room. Madame Giry pointed to the third bed on their right.

"That will be yours," she said. "Your bags will go underneath the bed."

Not knowing what else to say, Sarah simply replied, "_Merci_, Madame."

The girl walked over to the bed, untied her cloak, sat down on the bed and laid her cloak across the foot of it. Madame Giry regarded the girl for a moment.

"Would you like to watch the rehearsal?" she asked the girl.

"Oh, yes!" said Sarah eagerly. Madame Giry smiled and nodded.

"Come." The girl followed her out of the room and down the hall. As they walked, Sarah tried to memorize her way, but found it rather challenging, as there was so much else to look at than which way they turned. Decorations - tapestries, paintings and such - were everywhere, catching the eye whichever way one turned. Even the moulding on the walls was infinitely fancier than what the girl was accustomed to.

When Sarah saw the theatre itself, her thought that nothing could be more magnificent than the grand staircase and entry hall was instantly obliterated. They had entered from backstage and the whole of the opera seemed to be on the stage.

But Sarah's eyes were not on the rehearsal. She was gazing around the auditorium trying to take the grandeur of it in. Her eyes were wide with awe as they passed over the red velvet seats, the golden statues high up on the walls and on either side of each box, and the great dome of a ceiling. She gazed longest at the ceiling, thinking it was beautiful, from its gold trim to the chandelier. The great chandelier that sparkled in the light of the gas lamps seemed to demand to be looked at. She didn't see how everyone could not stare at it. The fire light from the edge of the stage cast light and shadows around the lower region of the auditorium. She did not see Madame smile at her expression as she stared upward.

She was brought back to the happenings around her by sudden movement to her right. Madame had called the ballerinas from their warm-ups and the stage had cleared for the ballet to have their necessary rehearsal time. As the music started and the girls danced, Madame corrected here and there.

"No, no!" called Madame. The conductor cut off the musicians. "I saw three of you that actually did that correctly and on beat. Watch." Sarah had not noticed until now that Madame Giry was wearing pointe shoes. Madame began to dance, counting aloud. Sarah watched with admiration, hoping that someday she would be able to dance like that too.

That night, Sarah watched the performance from the wings with Madame Giry and two ballerinas; Meg Giry, who was Madame Giry's daughter, and Christine Daaé, Madame Giry's ward.

Both girls were around Sarah's age. Meg was a blue-eyed girl with blonde hair, which curled at the ends. The front part of her hair by her ears was held away from her face, pulled back with a ribbon. Christine had dark, long, curly hair and large, brown eyes. Each wore a ballerina's costume with a white gauze skirt and pale pink pointe shoes.

Sarah took great interest on what was going on onstage, as she had never been to the opera before. Though she had expected the leading soprano to be better than La Carlotta. Sarah thought she sang like a dying cat or a banshee. Or perhaps a better description would be a hyperventilating hyena. Regardless of what animal she sounded like, it was not pleasant to listen to.

When the music for the ballet started, the dancers drifted onstage. They began to twirl and leap. Skirts swirled out around the dancers and pointe shoes barely seemed to touch the floor. It seemed like magic and Sarah finally understood why her mother loved ballet so much. To some it would be just spinning girls dancing on their toes, but to Sarah it was a new dream.


End file.
